Kennedy
by FootySocks100
Summary: Yes, it's one of those daughter fics. 17 year old Alana Kennedy lives alone until a social worker shows up at her door, inquiring about the whereabouts of her parents. With a dad as shiny as an apple, what could go wrong? As a side note, please REVIEW!
1. Social

**House MD is not, and will never be, my property. Unless there's an offer on EBay….**

My name is Alana Kennedy and I am a genius. In all modesty of course. I like to think of myself as an anthropologist, someone who studies the human race. I see the relationships between lovers, families, and animals. But I notice families more often.

So one morning when I got up from my bed and stumbled into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee, my mind was on people. More specifically, my father.

I've never met my father, and I'm pretty sure he hasn't met me. All I know about him is what my mother told me: his eyes are exactly like mine, he's a doctor, and he's as shiny as an apple. I'm not really sure how the last one is relevant, but my mom told me all of this stuff before she died of William's Syndrome last summer.

She was a little weird in the head before she died, so I'm 98.4% sure that the last thing isn't true. I think about my father a lot. When I was little, I used to imagine him as a businessman who was always away on some trip, talking to the President and drinking mineral water on Air Force 1.

Hey, what can I say? I was an imaginative little tyke. Several heavy knocks on the door made me jump about a foot in the air, effectively startling me out of my morning reverie. The coffee spilt a little, burning my skin. I hissed a curse under my breath.

"Haven't you people heard of this brilliant new invention? It's called a goddamn watch!" I yelled as I strode to the door, putting on an especially intimidating face.

When I flung open the door, I was expecting a swarm of Girl Scouts, or perhaps if I was really unfortunate, one of those Witness religion morons. What I was _not_ expecting was a short (by my standards) brunette woman in a black power suit. She wore a ponytail, and her low cut shirt accented her cleavage ever so slightly. She also carried a clipboard with several form-like papers attached.

"Uh." I said. Yeah. Real smooth. I shook my head, adjusting rapidly to the surprise. "Who the hell are you?"

She looked startled at my crude greeting, but quickly regained her composure. "I am Jennifer Brown, you must be-" she checked her clipboard. "Alana Kennedy."

I narrowed my eyes, looking down at her. "Who wants to know?"

Jennifer took a deep breath. "Ms. Kennedy, I am a social worker, and I'm here to inquire about your current living status. Is there an adult of whom I can speak with?"

I kept a straight face. If this lady was as stupid as she looked, I might have a chance of fooling her.

"Sorry, you like, just missed her. Mom just went out to get groceries. " I spared a glance at the calendar hanging in the kitchen. "Thursday morning is grocery day." The social worker looked anxious, little creases formed between her eyebrows.

"Oh, well, maybe if I could just step in for a moment." She peered around my shoulder, into the living room. I could see how she took note of the empty shot glass and the half eaten sandwich on the coffee table. I stepped in front of her, an evasive maneuver.

"All right then. If you give me your number, I can hand the number to mom when she gets back. And until then-" I made to close the door. She jammed her foot in the frame.

"Ms. Kennedy, I really must insist." She pushed on the door and I shoved back.

Suddenly her face looked blurry around the edges. I stepped back as my eyes unfocused, stumbling a bit before catching my balance.

"Ms. Kennedy? Ms. Kennedy!" Jennifer yelled as I sunk to the floor.

"I… don't feel too… great…" The last thing I saw was the social worker's frantic face as she reached for the phone.

And then I passed out.


	2. Call

**The man on EBay lied…. For those of you who were anxiously awaiting my ownership of the fantastic show House, MD, it has yet to arrive. You guys will be the first know if I do, though….**

(2 weeks later)

"This child has clearly been living in an unsuitable environment. Traces of alcohol were found in her body and multiple scars indicate previous abuse. She has been living parentless for almost a year."

I rolled my eyes. Abuse? Please. I had gotten those scars when I fell down the stairs of the apartment 3 years ago. I passed out because of dehydration, which any _decent_ social worker would know. I sat still while that moronic woman blabbered on.

"Ms. Brown, you said that Alana's mother died a year ago, but made no forward mention of her father." The white haired judge leaned forward, tilting his chair to do so. I shook my head, clearing the spacey thoughts from my head.

"Judge, uh, Morrison, my mom never talked about me dad, she only said that he was a doctor." I decided to keep the apple thing to myself. I looked straight at him, and his eyes flickered in recognition.

For a moment he looked deep in thought. "Ms Kennedy, I think I _might_ have an idea of who your father is. If I'm right, there will be no need to put you into foster care. Court adjourned."

The social worker gaped, and I smirked. Where could this _possibly_ go?

**If I had stopped it there, I don't think I'd ever forgive myself…**

Gregory House tipped back in his chair, practically brimming with satisfaction. He had just figured out another case, burst in, saved the patient from dying, and checked out Cuddy's ass all at the same time.

His phone buzzed lightly in his coat pocket, sending him into a debate of whether or not to answer it. Fortunately, Wilson saved him the effort, walking into his office (He learned not to knock a long time ago…) and picked it up.

"Hello, this is Gregory House speaking." Wilson said. House couldn't hear what the voice on the other end said, but he thought that it sounded exasperated.

Wilson held out the phone. "He wants the _real_ doctor House."

House had half a mind to close the phone like he would have done with any other caller, but curiosity got the best of him. "Yeah," he said.

"House?" He recognized that voice. Hundreds of lawsuits left him wary of that old, official-sounding voice. "There's an…issue that I think you might be interested in. Come down to the court house later, and we'll discuss it."

What issue? What could be so bad that Morrison would dread it? He hadn't killed anyone lately. Blackmail, no. What could it be?

"Alright, Morri! See ya then. Hey, maybe we could go for a drink afterwards. You like gin, right?" The stunned silence at the end of the line was enough for House. He snapped the phone shut, a million questions running through his head.

Wilson, as usual, looked skeptical. "What did you do this time?"

"No clue. Wanna go bowling?"

"But you just said-" Wilson started. House rolled his eyes. "Fine."

House grabbed his cane and headed for the door.


	3. Running

Wilson followed House discreetly out of the hospital, on the lookout for any signs of Cuddy. He was so busy looking that he slammed into a rather short white haired man.

"Argh!" He yelled as the stack of papers he was carrying fluttered to the ground.

"Oh God, I'm so sorry," Wilson said as he bent to pick up the papers. The man looked at him.

"Dr. Wilson?" Wilson straightened up, squinting at the man.

"Judge Morrison!" (For that, of course, is who the man was). "Uh, what are you doing here?"

The judge took the stack of papers," looking for House, actually. Have you seen him?" The oncologist glanced around Morrison's shoulder at House who was hiding behind a fern.

House made a motion with his hands, which Wilson took to mean: _Send him to the maternity ward!_

"He's behind you."

Morrison turned and rolled his eyes in annoyance."That man." He strode over to the potted plant and glared at House, who was still ducked behind it.

"Morri! Here to take me up on that offer for a drink? It's quite all right, good man, you can pay," House said in a startling attempt at a British accent.

"House!" The three men turned to see the confused face of Lisa Cuddy. "What's going on here?"

House pointed at Morrison. "Ask him. S' far as I know, I didn't do anything _that_ illegal." Cuddy snorted. Yeah right.

"This is a personal matter. Could we possibly discuss this in another room, Dr. House?" House took two hobbles before stopping in shock.

"No."

"Excuse me?"

"That's impossible."

"What is, House?" Cuddy was losing her patience.

House still looked too surprised to speak. Wilson thought a moment. House was right; he hadn't done anything revoltingly illegal lately. No abuse to any interns. No one had even _sued _him in the past month. Nothing that would interest the judge ruling over most of House's lawsuits. Unless…

"It does make sense," he admitted after a minute's pause. Cuddy was red with irritation.

"_What_ does? God dammit, you two, tell me already!" House coughed.

"Well, Cuddles, when a man pays a woman a lot of money for her to-" Wilson cut him off, before he could finish that particular graphic statement.

"House has a daughter."

I tapped a complicated rhythm on the leather armrest of the car. I wasn't a particularly patient person, especially when it came to mysteries. Who was this guy? Fantasies from my childhood came rushing back, quickly shattered by the facts that I already knew.

Judge Morrison obviously knew my father; otherwise he wouldn't have reacted so quickly. Was my dad some kind of crime lord doctor? Did he molest the judge's wife? Maybe he was dying of cancer. My mind went around in answerless circles. Finding the missing piece could solve most puzzles, but with some, you just had to wait for the answer.

The car jerked to a stop in front of a large brick red building. I got out and stretched my legs. The building looked like some kind of fancy hospital, presumably where my dear daddy worked.

I followed Ms. Social Worker from Hell into the lobby. People and nurses were bustling about, half of them probably pretending that they had somewhere important to be.

"WHAT?" A woman yelled rather loudly. Several people stared, and a nervous man in a white coat shot her a look. Intrigued, I looked over the man she was supposedly yelling to.

He was tall, about 4 inches taller than me. He was unshaven, and wore white Nike sneakers. He leaned lazily on a cane; but I could tell he was in pain by the way he grimaced every so often.

Something about this man interested me.

"Hey! Emo kid!" I jumped, but the surprise was quickly replaced with irritation. "I didn't know teens these days were turned on by old men."

I glared. "Shows how long ago you lost it. Or maybe you never even had it."

"I was never into fads."

"Doctor House! I do believe we need to discuss these matters somewhere… else."

"Ms. Kennedy, this involves you as well. Please follow me." He didn't look surprised to see me here. Since Morrison was here, that meant that my father was here. So it was either 'Doctor' House or the younger looking one. Down the hall, I could see Brown rushing towards me. Crap.

"Alright! Let's go! Off we trot into the magical world of Exam room…3!" I ushered the four adults inside and closed the door. House smirked as though he had just figured something out.

"Do you do that with all your problems?"

"Huh?" I said.

"Run away. Just close the door on it. Clever actually. Ignore something until it goes away. Simple human philosophy." I looked at him.

"Do you feel the need to analyze every living thing you come in contact with, Dr. House?"

"Only if they're less boring than the people around them. How do you know Morrison?"

"I'm a drug dealer. Heroin, coke, you name it, I got it."

"Nice try. You're eyes aren't bloodshot, you're not pale, and the state of your sneakers show that you couldn't afford another pair if you wanted to."

"You got me, Doc. I'm a pro juggler slash mime and have been assigned to monitor Morrison's every move. Actually, I'm secretly recording him right now so that I can kill him in his sleep," I said.

"Right. Ms. Kennedy," Morrison stood behind me. Apparently he'd heard every word I'd said. Whoops. "I'd like you to meet someone."

"Yeah?"

"This is your father, Alana: Dr. House."

Damn.


End file.
